


Touch Of Petals, Taste Of Dew

by SoHereWeAre



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother/Sister Incest, Cunnilingus, Curtain Kink, Declarations Of Love, Emotions, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploration, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, Frottage, Gentle Kissing, Gentleness, Hot Springs Sex, Jealousy, Love, Making Love, Marriage Proposal, Multiple Sex Positions, Naughtiness, Oral Sex, Out of Character, Passion, Premature Ejaculation, Robbsa, Sansa Doesn't Go To Kings Landing, Seduction, Seductive Sansa, Sexual Inexperience, Sibling Incest, Teaching, Tenderness, Touching, Trust, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Robb, Water Sex, Winterfell, learning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-08-29 10:45:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16742536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoHereWeAre/pseuds/SoHereWeAre
Summary: When Ned becomes Robert's Hand, he sends Sansa to Highgarden rather than taking her to King's Landing with the rest of the family, leaving Robb to oversee Winterfell in his absence. Sansa leaves home a girl but returns home a woman... a woman with a secret want that has been unearthed. She recognizes the same passion in Robb and soon he also gives in to his heart's desire.A Happy (early) Birthday gift to Sansafeels!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sansafeels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansafeels/gifts).



> This will be a short fic. Originally a one-shot birthday gift, there is too much to be explored to not make it a multi-chapter. This will not be a dark or angst-filled fic and the plot is sparse. It is meant to be smutty but light, with maybe a side of jealousy to keep it more interesting. I don't know how long this one will be. I never know!  
> So here is another WIP. Don't judge me... blame my brain! :)

The melting snow and ice crunched beneath Robb's rapid-stepping heavy black boots as he made his way through Winterfell's courtyard. The break in the weather was the North's nod to spring, if ever they really experienced one. He adjusted his furs and smoothed a gloveless hand through his russet hair while clearing his throat and glancing over at Theon Greyjoy, who wore a confident smirk as always.

"I spotted the caravan from the Battlements," his friend and his father's ward and hostage stated needlessly."She's arriving earlier than expected."

"I hardly think that matters, Theon." He tried to reply calmly but he was annoyed at the reproach. Of course. Theon never really cared about his sister one way or the other, preferring to either train with him or mess around with the local whores. Sansa was prim and proper and a lady, and Theon scoffed at her perfect decorum.

"I suppose not." Theon sighed, looking bored."So do you think she has brought any Highgarden servants with her? I hardly think she would make the journey home under the escorts of all men."

"Hallis, Alyn, and Tomard were sent for a reason. They are the best and Sansa is the most comfortable around them. Septa Mordane would have went with her in the first place, had she not traveled with the family to King's Landing. Old Nan was enough -"

"Old Nan is just that," Theon snorted. "Old."

"Old Nan can still lace up a gown and braid hair and she's been a loyal member of the Stark household, so shut up," Robb murmured. He would have said more but they reached the stopped caravan with Hallis opening the door. Old Nan ambled out with a small groan, taking hold of Alyn's offered arm. Perhaps Father should not have assented for her to travel with Sansa to Highgarden, considering her age. He stepped forward to help but paused as Sansa emerged from her seat, delicately stepping on a patch of bare wet ground.

It had been little over two years since her departure. Two years since she was packed off to The Reach by Father in a bid to keep her from being betrothed to Prince Joffrey. It was a bold move but one Eddard Stark negotiated with King Robert; give Sansa more time to flower and learn the ways of the Court in a peaceful, quaint environment while the Stark family took up residence in King's Landing, with Eddard serving as Hand. Indeed, even Robb knew the Tyrells excelled in courtly graces and Highgarden was the stuff of delicate dreams; well-suited to Sansa's ideas of chivalry and sweet Princes. Robb did not see Joff as a sweet prince and suspected his father did not either. Although he was not in favor of Sansa being separated from the family, he hoped the time away would open her eyes to what little prick her soon-to-be betrothed really was. 

Two years. In that time Robb had taken over the duties of the Lord of Winterfell. Something he had been born to do came naturally to him but he realized quickly how difficult it really was to handle Winterfell and admired his father even more for it. He had thought it would be a lonely time but he was far too busy to dwell on the fact he was the only Stark left. Even Jon had departed for the Wall with little fanfare, leaving only Theon as a companion. What little spare time he allowed himself he spent hunting or sparring with Theon and writing letters to Kings Landing and Highgarden. It was only at meal times did he take the time to reflect on the emptiness of the family table, opting many times to sup in his solar while going over the latest scrolls, passing over betrothal offers from various houses with a brief and perfunctory reply of thanks but at this time the duties were too overwhelming to consider an offer. 

Truth be told, the thought of a prospective bride made him uneasy. He really had no experience with women. There was no time for that, even though he half-heartedly joined Theon a handful of times when he visited his favorite whore, Ros, who resided just outside of Winterfell. Much to Theon's chagrin Ros seemed to take a fancy to him but he declined her politely despite Theon's taunts that he was as bad as Jon. He relented and allowed Ros to kiss him while she pleasured him with her overly experienced hand, spilling as quick as any greenboy would, all the while his hands gripping tight into her messy red hair. He has tried to give her more than her asking rate but she had declined it all, asking only that he return without Theon. 

Robb never went back, no matter how much Theon has harassed him. It was one thing to flirt and dance and bask in the adoration of girls who thought him noble and handsome; it was quite another to fuck a whore. He wanted to be an honorable man such as his Father. Eddard Stark had a bastard, true; but ever since, his Father has been faithful to his Mother. Still, a slip is a slip, and Robb made a firm resolution to never father a bastard. If he would bed a woman, that woman is to be his wife in their marriage bed.

And now was no time to take on a bride, even if was what he wanted.

"Sansa," he breathed, a grin spreading from ear-to-ear as she turned her face upward. 

"Robb." She stood to her full height, a dark green cloak trimmed in fur hiding her body, the lining of the hood framing her face. She had grown much taller and her face was thinner, more mature. Her hair seemed brighter and when she reached up to bare her head, he noticed her beautiful russet hair seemed to shine in the setting sun. In a heartbeat he embraced her and she hugged him close, burying her face into his collar.

"Welcome home, Sansa," he choked, taking in her scent."I've missed you."

"And I you, Robb, more than you know." She pulled back and adjusted her cloak. "Have I arrived too late for supper? I am famished."

"I'll have the cooks make a fine meal while you unpack and rest. Theon and I always take our supper late." He shifted uncomfortably. Her voice was low, throaty, not so girly as he remembered. 

"Welcome home, Sansa," Theon parroted. 

Robb hastily offered Sansa his arm before Theon could and eyed his friend, his foster-brother, with suspicion. He'd seen Theon cast such looks as he was now at any pretty girl he happened across.

"Thank you, Theon," she replied prettily, her eyelids fluttering above her sparkling dark blue eyes and a small smile gracing her lips. "It is good to know I have been missed."

Theon's usual swagger seemed to melt as he cleared his throat, looking at Robb before staring straight ahead. Immediately Robb tensed but Sansa paid no mind, plucking at his furs and making small talk about her journey home, and how she much she missed him and Winterfell, and had he heard from Father lately? Sansa was always so eloquent at conversation but she seemed even more so now, and the difference was that she was taking the lead. As they walked into the castle, Robb regretted volunteering Theon as another dinner companion, the reason crystal clear.

Sansa was no longer a girl. She had blossomed into a woman, and Theon realized it. So did Robb, but he was her brother whereas Theon was not, and that made all the difference in the world.


	2. Dinner For Three, Dessert For Two

Robb loudly coughed his disapproval and Theon stopped chewing to raise his eyebrows and shrug before swirling a piece of meat in gravy and popping it into his mouth. The food had grown cool and any other time Robb would not stand on ceremony or reprimand Theon in any way, but this was a special occasion and it annoyed him. He tapped his fingers restlessly against his cup of wine and debated on letting Grey Wind eat his meal. The gravy was congealing and the meat was more unappealing the later it became. Her place setting next to him remained undisturbed, as did the lemon cake in front of them. Theon attempted to take a slice but Robb swatted his hand away with a knife. Theon could eat his meal but the dessert was to remain untouched.

What was taking Sansa so long anyway? Robb tapped his boot impatiently on the floor and tugged at his leather tunic while Grey Wind lay relaxed beside him in contrast. His stomach growled and Theon pointed to his food but Robb shook his head. It wasn't right to start eating without his sister. She had been gone for so long -

"I am truly sorry I am late. It took me longer than expected -"

Sansa floated in and the torches seemed to reach in her direction, casting a luminous light around her as she swayed towards the table, and Robb blinked hard while he breath caught. He was imagining things, he had to be, because there was no way this creature in front of him was his sister. It was impossible.

Her long hair fell loosely in wavy locks past her waist, unfettered by any braid or clasp, and it shone as bright as the fire surrounding her. Her skin was luminous, flawless, and bared more than Robb had ever seen, and when they were younger he had seen her in her small clothes more than once. Yet he doubted she even had small clothes under the gown she donned... if one could call it a gown. It was pale blue with green and gold embroidered flowers in delicate threading, but the neckline was plunging, accentuating a bosom that was not as full when she had departed Winterfell. The material clung to her as she walked, defining the curvature of her hips. There were no sleeves, only wisps of fluttering panels gathered at her shoulders by gold rose pendants. Her only adornment was a tiny gold pendant necklace, but if one looked like Sansa, one did not need adornments for beauty. She was pale but there was a flush in her cheeks and a shine in her dark blue eyes as she sauntered to her seat beside him and Robb sat frozen, staring, as she approached and smiled.He always loved her smiles and had basked in the knowledge he was was the cause of them most days, but his eyes couldn't help lowering past her face and then rapidly focusing on Lady daintily padding beside her. She was stunning, a woman grown, and it both disturbed and fascinated him in a heady rush that left him with a heated neck and a tight belly.

She reached out for her chair - a slim, creamy, bare arm - and Robb couldn't move, couldn't react. Unfortunately Theon stumbled out of his chair and rushed over to their side of the table, nearly tripping over Grey Wind and bumping into Robb to pull the chair out for her to sit, which she did gracefully.

"You look lovely, Sansa. The dress compliments you."

Robb snapped out of his trance to glare, but Theon seemed unperturbed and openly ignored the death-stare while grinning ear-to-ear over the first one to not only give Sansa a compliment, but to show the gentlemanly courtesy of ushering her into the seat.

"Thank you, Theon. It was a parting gift from the Tyrells, along with the necklace. I was wondering if I should wear it but the castle is warm and it is so pretty."

"It is very pretty, Sansa." Robb's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "It seems Highgarden was enjoyable. You do not look worse for wear from your journey home."

"I am surprised Father let me linger so long, but I was always so terribly homesick. I would have returned sooner if not for Margaery and her brothers begging me to stay. Have I missed much while I was away? Robb, you've done so well with sending ravens so frequently, as well as Father and Mother. King's Landing seems to always have some court intrigue going on. Even Arya wrote to me although all she did was brag about her sword training. I don't know how Father will ever marry her to anyone -"

"It's not Arya Lord Stark is concerned with." Theon eased his way back over to his seat across from Robb."Your brother has been entertaining such proposals."

Robb blanched and stuck a piece of cold, tough meat into his mouth. Damn Theon. 

"Oh." Sansa delicately began to eat small bites. Ever the lady, she did not complain about the temperature of her fare. Arya would have grouched and pushed the plate away. "Robb did not write to me about that."

"It's nothing, Sansa. Just some hints about the Mormont girl. Even a suggestion for the Princess Myrcella and she is far too young as of yet. I would rather have a Northern lady than a princess anyway. Unlike you, of course. Although Father has not mentioned that prick Joffrey ever since he sent you packing to Highgarden."

Immediately he was sorry for the reproach at the last of his words and felt like an idiot when her head lowered. She reached for he cup and he was acutely aware of her lips curling around the rim and the constriction of her delicate throat as she drank.

"So what else did you bring back from Highgarden?" Theon continued to eat vigorously. "Anything in the form of a nubile female Highgarden servant?"

"No, Theon, there are no whores in my trunk, I am sorry." She set her cup down so gently it made no noise. "I have naught else but a gown, some slippers, and some drapes for my bed. Along with knowledge I never thought I would find, and some wonderful memories. The Tyrells were very hospitable and welcoming. It was so beautiful there, all warmth and roses and chivalry. It was like a Tourney every day. Truly a paradise."

"So now you are back in cold boring Winterfell. Where us folk are rather base in our actions and thoughts -"

"Theon!" Robb barked loud enough to startle Grey Wind, who whined. "Highgarden is different from Winterfell but Winterfell is home, is it not, Sansa? Maybe not as refined or as glorious as King's Landing -"

"I have returned to Winterfell because I missed my brother. I missed everyone. I missed Lady, too." She slipped a hand across to clasp over his left one that had balled into a fist on the table. "I would not trade this for a lifetime at Highgarden."

Robb relaxed his hand and hers slipped so easily into his. It always had. Only this time it felt different, foreign, sending a prickling feeling up his arm. The softness, the small caress of her fingertips, it made him want to reach over and smooth her hair from her face. The warmth spread through him and he smiled at her, attempting to remain transfixed on her returning grin but allowing his eyes to lower. Her nipples were hard against the fabric and his hands clenched involuntarily. He forced his eyes to her necklace.

"That's a lovely necklace, Sansa." He pulled his hand away from hers as gently as he could.

"Thank you. It's a tiny snowflake. I was to have a rose necklace but I asked if one could be commissioned instead. This was my reminder of Winterfell. I wore it every day." Her voice was soft and dreamy as she reached up to gently ruffle at his wavy hair. "It reminded me of when you hugged me before I left. The snow was falling and the snowflakes melted in your hair and a few even stuck to your eyelashes and eyebrows."

Embarrassed for some reason, Robb turned to focus on his plate, giving up on talking and letting Theon's big mouth take over. He wasn't hungry anymore and noticed Sansa picked at her food and he realized her coming to dine was merely a courtesy. Or maybe it was an opportunity to show off to Theon how beautiful and enchanting she looked in a skimpy gown made for heat and gardens of roses. A suspicion formed in his mind as he listened to the the thinly-veiled polite pleasantries between his foster-brother friend and his lovely sister. Was Sansa showing interest in Theon? Theon might be crass and too lewd at times but he knew how to play with the ladies. Experienced at laying on the compliments and charming the highborns, and wild with fucking the whores and servants. Did he have his sights set on Sansa? He was still Balon's heir.

"I am sorry but I would like to retire." Sansa stood up gracefully. "Robb, can you bring the lemon cake brought to my solar? It looks so good and I hate to see it go to waste."

"Of course, Sansa. I can do that. We are glad you are home." He and Theon stood up as a courtesy and Sansa leaned over to hug him. He was accustomed to her hugs but it was slower, softer, strange. He all but buried his face into her scented hair but Theon was watching so he let her go.

"Let me walk you to your solar." Theon scampered over to offer his arm.

Sansa's smile was brilliant and she nodded and Robb seethed as she linked her arm with his, Lady standing at attention. He did not miss the smile on Theon's face but he relaxed a little when, before they left the Hall, she turned to look at him and smiled. Bolstered, he called for a servant to transfer several pieces of lemon cake to a new dining plate. He would take it to her himself. It would give him time to talk to her in private without the annoying presence of a salivating Theon Greyjoy.

 

********************

 

There was nothing but the sound of his boots stepping softly down the corridor to Sansa's solar door, where he found Grey Wind lounging in the middle of the hall. The direwolf yawned in greeting as Robb patted his head and then proceeded to pace down the hall, his paws clicking and echoing on the stone floor as Robb knocked softly. Everyone else had retired for the evening and it was deathly quiet. Even Theon slipped off to bed and he was usually the last to turn in. Sansa bade him to come in with a strong and loud tone and he easily slipped inside with the tray of lemon cake.

Sansa was already seated at a small table by the glowing hearth, elegant in a high-backed chair with Lady lying by her side. A small pitcher of ale was already setting in the middle and two cups accompanying it and Robb wasted no time in sliding the plate beside it, leaning over to deposit a quick kiss on her forehead. Despite the fire and the hot springs through the castle, she felt cool on his lips. She still wore he Highgarden gown and the necklace still glittered at her throat but her hair now was pulled back on the sides. Sansa was always the embodiment of a perfect lady but sitting there with the glow of the fire behind her she seemed breathtakingly ethereal.

"Thank you, Robb, for this. You know, they tried to make lemon cake in Highgarden but it never tasted quite the same." She reached over and daintily broke off a piece, popping it into her mouth and closing her eyes for a moment to savor the taste. "Mmmm."

Robb sunk down into the chair opposite of her and tugged at the ties of his brown leather tunic. It was more loose and casual than the brown leather he wore at dinner but it seemed even more constrictive.

"I haven't had lemon cake since you left," he confessed. "It seemed silly to have it made when there was no one here to enjoy it with me."

"Do you remember when you took it upon yourself to make me one?"

"Yes, it was the worst-tasting lemon cake in all of the Seven Kingdoms but you ate it without so much as a grimace. I never could understand why -"

"Because I love you, Robb, and I love anything you try to do for me. You are always so good at anything you try to do...except for lemon cake, apparently." For a moment he saw the Sansa he knew in the sweetness of her face and the twinkle in her eyes but something in her voice confused him and made him as uncomfortable as he has been in the Hall. "So, brother, how do you like being the Lord of Winterfell?"

"Father is still Lord of Winterfell, San. I am just filling in for now."

"Aye, but Father is the Hand and he cannot be the Hand from Winterfell. King Robert has him and our family in King's Landing for a reason and you are filling his shoes here. According to Theon, you are entertaining offers of marriage. I am sure they are flowing in because they see you as Lord of Winterfell. Young, handsome, powerful. A fine catch. Why did you not write me of that? You took care to describe every other duty you've performed."

"It is trivial." Robb felt the flush crawling up his neck. "I am too preoccupied to marry."

"I see." Her eyes narrowed and her smile vanished. "Has anyone caught your eye?"

"Not so much as the Prince Prick has caught yours," he countered. "Were you not sent to Highgarden to cool your ardor for the Golden Girl and to cultivate more princess-like attributes?"

It was something they had not talked about. He wasn't sure if there wasn't time or that neither of them wanted to approach it but Robb's irritation over her obsession over Joffrey still festered, even after two years. He hated Joff and their was no rational explanation for it except that he simply hated the wormy-lipped little shit. Robb could best him in a sword fight within seconds and he was taller than he was, too, and by all accounts he was better looking than the pasty-faced brat. He didn't know what Sansa saw in him except that he was an actual prince to her dreams of marrying a gallant prince that would sweep her off her feet and slay the evil dragons that threatened her. Much like how he always played her prince in their childhood games until he started to spar with a real sword and learn real combat skills. Only he could never be her true love, not in the real sense. Childhood fantasy grew into a girl's reality and she wanted Joffrey Baratheon to fulfill her desires. 

"Not very polite, calling the heir to the throne a girl. That is a little bit treasonous, is it not?"

"Only if you send a raven to your betrothed to tattle on me." Robb shrugged as if it was no importance but he tensed. Sansa seemed different. She used to be so shy, decorous. True, when they talked alone she showed more life but her tongue was never so sharp. She never reprimanded him like she was doing now. What difference did it make if he was considering marriage offers? He wasn't, but so what if he did? And her retort about Joffrey? He imagined a sweet reunion and did not want to be baited into an argument. He also did not want her to be looking as she did, resplendent and womanly in her revealing blue dress. He did not want Theon to look upon her with lust in his eyes... he did not want to see other men desiring her in a way he could not -

Sansa stood up and moved to face the hearth, her back to him. He could see her figure through the thin fabric and her lush hair reached below her her waist. She folded her arms in front of her.

"I was a stupid girl. A stupid girl desperately trying to redefine my ideal Prince. I projected my girlish notions onto him because he was easier. He is King Robert's heir and he was charming to me. When the King and his family visited he said I was to be his Lady." Her voice grew soft but she did not turn around. "You said those words to me many a time when we played in the Courtyard. Even times when we just walked and talked in the Godswood."

"We were children." His voice grew soft as well. "We are not playing games anymore, San. We are grown and there are obligations as the two eldest Starks and it does not include us becoming Lord and Lady of Winterfell together." He tried to joke but it hurt somewhere deep inside.

Sansa bowed her head before jerking her chin up as if she were defying the flickering and snapping flames in front of her.

"In Highgarden everything is so free. My eyes were opened to so many things, Robb. Expressions of feelings, acceptance of people and how they choose to love. There is no condemnation like there is here in the North. Not for anything. A man can love a man, or a woman can love a woman. People even practicing as the Targaryens had, they don't condone it but they look the other way when it happens. Oh, I was scandalized at first, I truly was, but Margaery and her brother Loras schooled me well in how to uncover my own wants and desires."

Robb was not much experienced in sexual matters of others, or their preferences, but he had heard rumors of Loras Tyrell and even Margaery through Theon. Not that Theon was a reliable source. He never put much stock into it and since Sansa was who she was and Old Nan had accompanied her. Now, his thoughts ran in all directions and he stood, striding over to her in a heartbeat, not quite sure what he was doing but he reached out to grasp her shoulder lightly and turn her around. She did so, looking up at him, her eyes large and luminous and dark.

"San, tell me true. Are you - are you still a maiden?" It fell from his lips before he could stop himself. It was completely idiotic and none of his business.

"The Tyrells would not have such dishonor happen under their watch." 

"Is that a yes, then?"

"And why is it so imperative that you know?" A smirk crossed her full, dark pink lips. "Would you be jealous if I had my maidenhead taken in Highgarden?"

"I - San, how can you even suggest such a thing? You - I just meant, I've heard stories. And as a highborn lady you are to give your maidenhead to your husband and -"

"Would you rather I give my maidenhead to a Highgarden knight or to Joffrey Baratheon? Or neither?" A blush crept up her cheeks and she bit her lip."Robb, why must we dance around what is really between us? What has always been there just beneath the surface?"

"I don't know what you mean." He dropped his hand from her shoulder and turned away, stumbling to the foot of her bed, grasping instead onto the delicate pole of her canopy. She had the only bed in the castle with hanging drapes of dark damask. He noticed the heavy curtains were pulled back and a light cream-colored airy gauze hung around the bed instead, as gossamer as her gown but even more see-through. He could see her bed neatly turned down for sleeping through the curtain and his hand reached out to touch the fabric. Perhaps he wished to feel the fabric of her gown and this was something tangible to take the urge away. There were tiny gold roses etched into the netting. Tyrell. Sending sweet innocent Sansa into a field of roses was just as bad as sending her into the lion's den. What was truly beneath the surface? She mentioned the Targaryen way. She loved the tales of the brother King and Sister Queen, just as much as Arya had.

"Of course you know, Robb. You've always known and so have I. Why do you think I've returned to Winterfell, while our family is in King's Landing? I don't want Joff." 

He heard the faint rustle and soft padding of bare feet approaching and he turned to face her, his hand clutching the bed pole so hard he felt his hand going numb. Startled at her so close - nothing unusual, they always stood close, but now - he wanted to glance at the door, move towards the door, but his feet were rooted and his body froze.

"San -"

He no sooner made a feeble attempt to say her name then she moved closer, inches from him, so close he could see the intricate detail of her snowflake necklace. Her head tilted up and her lips parted sensually and his mind screamed at him to stop but his body leaned forward and all he could see was a small smile before he bent his head to touch his lips against hers. He has kissed her several times, always at play, always a peck of the knight or prince that saved his princess, but this was no perfunctory make-believe kiss as her lips controlled his, moving in a slow, seductive motion. She pressed more firmly, more insistently and he followed, his mouth moving of its own volition while his mind stopped screaming and began humming. She tasted like the lemon cake she just has taken a bite of, only sweeter, richer, more tempting. Her hand smoothed up his neck and slender fingers curled into his hair, pulling him in even more, her body now pressing into his. She kissed him again, and again, so painfully slow while he felt every curve of her against him. It was terrifying how quickly his body responded as he felt his cock ache. He tried to move away but it was futile as his hand left the post to weave into her the length of her hair while his other found the dip of her waist. His fingers seemed to burn through the flimsy fabric to touch her skin and she indeed wore no small clothes to hamper the feeling.

It was the little moan under their kiss that unnerved him, panicked and inflamed him simultaneously. Even as he kissed her harder, faster, he weakly pushed her hip away from his lower torso. To have her feel her own brother aroused at her touch was too much of a shame for him to do to her, even as her kisses coaxed his tongue to meet hers. Dimly he wondered who taught her to kiss, for she was no novice, but it mattered not and he almost swooned like a love struck girl when he felt her hand smoothing over the very area he was trying to have her avoid. Even through his breeches her touch seared as she caressed his length. In horror he realized he was pushing into her hand and he broke their kissing to tear away from her, refusing to look her in the eyes, deliberately not glancing at her at all. He could hear her heavy breathing and sweet little gasps. She was his sister, his younger sister, they were not Targs, they were Starks. 

"Gods, Sansa -" he choked, unable to say anything else. Instead, he rushed from her solar, slammed the door and raced into his own solar, ensuring the bolt locked the door in place before leaning up against it. His heart was hammering as he sank to the floor and sat there, stunned, shocked, and morally confused. He was Robb Stark, son of Eddard Stark, a young man of honor, and he kissed his sister in a way that he never should have. He wanted her in a way he couldn't have her. Her kisses were far sweeter and more intoxicating than any he'd ever experienced and his body betrayed him and he let it happen. Mortification could not outmatch the fervor as he closed his eyes, still feeling her body, her lips against his. He wanted to take control, gather his wits and return to her, apologize and say it would never happen again, but he couldn't even remember who kissed who in the first place.

Instead, the guilt was pushed aside as Robb frantically unlaced his breeches, the feel of her hand against him still vivid as he took himself in his own hand to find a hurried release.


	3. Beauty In Blush

The shove pushed Robb back and he stumbled but did not fall, thankfully. He'd never hear the end of it if Theon knocked him on his ass. 

"C'mon, Stark, is that all you got in you? You've grown soft since your sister has returned." Theon chuckled as Robb's sword met his in response."Too much of a girly influence on ya?"

Theon was always up for a sparring round and Robb found himself mock-fighting in the courtyard more often than not lately. The cool hair expelled from their mouths in smoke-like strands but Robb had stripped himself of all gear save his basic tunic, breeches, and boots. It was a sign of trust that Theon would not accidentally nick or spear him as well as an ease of his sweating. It was usually not the case when he practiced but for the last couple of weeks his efforts had increased as he attempted to expel frustrated energy. For some reason, though, his extra fervor displayed his weaknesses and not his strengths; he knew he was a far better swordsman than Theon ever could be. Well, he knew the reason, and that reason stood towering over the both of them from her view on the balcony facing the yard enclosure, draped in her Stark furs with a small smile on her face, her gloved hands clutching the railing.

"Shut up, Theon, and actually fight," he managed to growl. He would refuse to admit to anyone that Sansa's presence had him unnerved, and he couldn't resist glancing at her every now and again. Not just that, but he wanted - no, needed - to best Theon in front of her.

"I can't afford to expel too much energy. I got an appointment tonight." Theon's shit-eating grin gave him away instantly as their swords clanked together repeatedly. "You should come with. Or do you have more Lordly pursuits in mind? Like signing shit and reading complaints."

"Thought you had grown tired of Ros. You've haven't visited her since Sansa's return." He stepped back at Theon's onslaught of strength and over-fancy footwork and knew he was showing off for their audience of one. It annoyed him and he managed to knock him to the ground, but Theon skillfully rolled and jumped back to his feet.

"Aye, I was too caught up in another pretty redhead to care," he smirked.

For his impudence Robb fought more fiercely, and this time when he was knocked down to the ground, he found the tip of the sword's blade poking into the protective chest plate.

"Dead." Robb's pronouncement was a low bark and no smile graced his face. "I win."

Theon grinned up at him and raised his eyebrows before Robb withdrew, standing back to look up at Sansa, who smiled and clapped her hands together. It reminded him of playing games as children; she always wanted him to be her knight or prince, and he always managed to slay the evil dragon or Lord, basking in the glow of victory while she praised him. He couldn't resist a small bow of his head to her, meeting her smile with his own. Yet they were not children and this was no longer innocent. Her smile masked the secret promise of forbidden pleasures if only he would relent, and his poorly concealed the weakened resolve to keep her at arm's length and maintain his honor. 

"I win," Robb repeated in a gloat, more forcefully, triumphant in his sister's obvious approval.

Theon scrambled to his feet and Robb felt a hand slap down on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Theon's expression holding something of understanding and a little sympathy.

"Keep telling yourself that, brother."

 

*******************

 

The nights were the worst.

This night was the most intolerable yet.

Grey Wind lay flopped up against Robb's solar door, snoozing and looking comfortable as opposed to Robb, who squirmed in his chair while swirling wine in his cup, staring into the tiny fire in his hearth. A bath, change of clothes, and a hearty supper did nothing for his mood as tiny beads of perspiration formed on his forehead, making his wavy tousled locks stick in place above his eyebrows.

It was dead silent and for the past few weeks it meant a time to drink and get lost in his cups with Theon until he could no longer stand and mercifully pass out once he was aided to bed. It was best that way; better to not linger alone with thoughts to torture him and the hopelessness of it all. Now Theon was off in pursuits of the flesh and Robb knew he would not be returning until dawn; and Greyjoy was the only one in the castle who could keep up with him all through the night. Still, there was some hope; he had carried his pitcher and up to his room in the hopes of still getting completely drunk and passing out, but so far he merely sipped on his first glass in frustration. 

Everyone was asleep. Maybe even Sansa.

What if she wasn't? What if she was lying in bed awake, thinking of what transpired in her room and what was happening since? He deliberately made it difficult for them to be alone together but she deliberately made it hard for him to avoid her. It was her carefully chosen words, her soft touches and lingering chaste kisses, her smoldering gazes; the way she ate, the way she drank, every little thing she could possibly do to convey that she knew. She knew. The worst - no, the best - was when she sang at dinner, engaging him into dancing with her at the encouragement of everyone in attendance. It was known how the two eldest Starks were graceful and perfect at dancing, and no doubt they struck a breathtaking image as they danced together to her lively tune. Her body had moved against his, her hands clasped firmly in his shaking one; Gods, he could not even dance with her now without remembering how he had pushed his manhood into her stroking hand while she kissed him. While he kissed her.

That night he had left after everyone - including Theon - had gone to bed, spurring his steed at high speed towards the small town where Ros resided with a couple other whores. He had demanded Ros, and he knew it was only her red hair that he wanted to touch so desperately; her body was secondary but would provide a momentary release from the shamed want he felt for his own sister. He thought he could pretend she was someone else but as soon as she spoke his name while palming his cock, the thin illusion was shattered and he came to his senses, leaving with apologies, and extra coin for her troubles. He didn't want Theon's whore. He knew who he wanted.

" _Robb, why must we dance around what is really between us? What has always been there just beneath the surface_?"

Because Father and Mother would be horrified. Because the Old Gods would shun them. Because it's forbidden and they could be put to death. Because brother and sister should never act as a man and wife. Because there is no honor in incest.

But he loved her. Wasn't there honor in that? Wouldn't it be more dishonor to be with someone he did not love and for Sansa to be with someone cruel and cold? 

They were not Targs. Yet the Targs had wed brother to sister for generations. And what of the snide rumors of Queen Cersei and her own brother Ser Jaime? It was said they were lovers when they were young and maybe that was just vicious gossip meant to damage the Queen by her enemies but still, it was not unheard of. No one had to know. No one would know, with the family in King's Landing. They could avoid their Mother's watchful gaze and Arya's natural nosiness. No one in their household would ever suspect anything incestuous going on, not with the ladylike Sansa dreaming of Prince Joffrey and him entertaining offers of marriage. He loved Sansa beyond what was natural, he knew that now. It was in his gut when she left for Highgarden yet he pushed it down, denied it, and what has denial brought him? He imagined it was Sansa masturbating him when he was with Ros; imagined it was Sansa's red hair he twisted around his fingers as he came. It had been embarrassing and horrifying at the time but now...now it seemed like a manifestation of his true feelings that could never be. But could they now? How had Highgarden changed her to see him as someone to desire? How could this even be real?

Robb rubbed his head with his free hand. He was tired of thinking, wanting, struggling. Nothing in his head was coherent -

The door of his solar creaked open and he had not realized it was unbarred. Yet he knew who it was and he closed his eyes, gripping his cup, his other hand somehow gripping the armrest of his chair. It wasn't just that fact that Grey moved out of the way without protest, or that he wasn't expecting late company in his bedroom. There had been no ceremonious knock, no opportunity to turn her away and he tensed, even as he anticipated her scent, her voice. Grey snorted and trotted out. He could hear her bar the door and her slippers proceeded to softly clack on the floor. Even as he willed her silently to go, the rustling of her wrapper as she reached out to touch the nape of his neck was more than welcomed.

"It is late, Sansa. You should be asleep by now." He shivered as her fingertips ran along the collar of his tunic.

She said nothing but moved to his side to pull his cup from his hand, setting it onto the table next to him by the still full pitcher. He didn't want to turn to look at her but he could smell her now. A slight scent of lavender and rose, so faint perhaps one who wasn't seeking it could not detect it. He knew it was in her hair. She leaned into him, her hair falling down his shoulder, her lips near his ear. Robb swallowed nervously.

"Tonight is not a night for you to be drowning in your cups." The whisper was molten sweetness. "Too much drink dulls the senses and steals memories of the finer moments experienced."

"Sansa -" It came out as a pitiful whine.

"I've a surprise for you. I hope you will like it."

"Another present from Highgarden?" He managed to breathe his words out jaggedly, trying to ignore the nuzzling of cheek against cheek. Anyone from the outside looking in would see a sisterly affection but Robb knew better. His body was responding to her already even as his jaw tightened for control.

"Yes, you could say that." She planted a small kiss on his cheek. "But this one is more for you, not me. Would you like it?"

"Y -yes." He could never refuse Sansa. He could avoid her like he's been doing for weeks, but directly refuse her? Never. "Of course."

"Thank you, Robb. I love you." 

"I - I love you too, Sansa. Thank you for - thinking of me." 

Her light giggle made his eyes screw shut tighter and he winced at how ridiculous he sounded. There was no time to analyze it, though, when he felt her move to stand in front of him.

"Robb, you'll have to open your eyes to see what I have."

He did as he was told and found both of his hands gripping the arms of the chair for dear life. A pack of wild direwolves couldn't make him move; they would have to tear him to pieces as he sat but gods, his last vision would be worth it.

Sansa stood, the fire behind her highlighting her form, making her pale skin and free flowing hair glow in a ethereal light. Before his widened eyes her own darkened and snapped as if the embers jumped from the hearth into each iris. His heart nearly stopped when her slim hands reached up to undo the sash of her wrapper, pulling it down and off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, revealing her night shift which was no shift at all but a thin, sleeveless, light blush silk night gown that left nothing to the imagination. It plunged low, held in place by a few lacings of gold. It wasn't the see-through fabric that Robb cared about; it was the sight it lacked in shielding from his starving eyes. 

She wore no smallclothes, no underthings and Robb wasn't sure where to look or if he should look at all. He was helpless to his hammering heart and now there was no using the guise of jewelry for him to feast his gaze on her breasts; now with no constraints he could see they were tipped in dark pink, as pink as her lips, and hardened against the airy silk. He was a man after all, and even though he tried to raise his eyes to her lovely face, instead they traveled down to catch the curve of her hips and the flat of her stomach, and the darkened red thatch of hair between her thighs. The fire behind her seared through her delicate gown, painting a blazing silhouette of a temptress. Was this even his sister? There was no decorum or propriety in this beautiful entity but she was beautiful and he loved her. His hands ached to reach for her but instead they remained clutching the wood grain of his chair as he struggled to meet her eyes again. The look she gave him broke down his final shred of decency as he made a weak attempt to stand. 

His effort mattered little when, to his shock, she pushed him back down into his chair and effortlessly straddled him. He tried move her back enough to not feel his rock hard erection through his breeches but she scooted forward. His hands didn't know where to go. For a second they rested on her thighs but he jerked them back as if they burned; indeed, he swore he felt the bare of her skin as if no gossamer fabric laid between them. She may as well have been naked on his lap. He moved to her waist but ended up too far up, too near her breasts; and he settled on her shoulders but her flesh was bare and soft and arousing.

Frantic, flustered, and no doubt blush was not just the color of her gown but his own cheeks as well, he skimmed up to her face to draw her in for a kiss; he let out his frustration as he roughly pulled her to his demanding lips. He needed to assuage this sudden desire ripping at every seam of his body. 

To his puzzlement she wrenched free of his grasp, her hands grabbing his to pin down on the arm rests. He was already panting, gasping with want but she seemed calm, in command. Slowly, gently, Sansa leaned back in and he understood as soon as he met her lips again. He let her take control in a painfully languid kiss, and in it's tenderness it struck him more to his core than his hurried attempt.

This time when she inched up his lap, he let her.

Her kisses were sweeter than lemon cake and he let himself surrender to her, the smell of her, the feel of her. Smooth, cool hands caressed up his newly sprouting stubble, fingertips brushed away the beads of sweat along his hairline. She broke their kissing only to pepper kisses along his cheek, down his neck to the start of his leather jerkin. Her hands soon followed to nimbly unlace it, pulling it apart to reveal his linen undershirt which soon was also unlaced. It exposed enough of his chest for her to run her fingers through his chest hair before her hands went lower. Lower as in to the laces on his breeches. 

"Sansa." He breathed her name while her lips sough his neck, her teeth nipping and tongue lolling sensuously in a sweet spot to leave him struggling for control. It was as if she didn't hear him as the laces came undone and she reached down to tug down at the fabric before pushing his shirt up. He still had on his smallclothes at least, but without the thicker material of his pants he could feel her even more. To his horror she moved up even further. Done with his clothing she reached down to lift the skirt of her nightgown up over her hips before positioning herself to hover over his cock.

She lowered down on him and - _gods_ \- he could feel her cunt through his flimsy drawers. He couldn't help the moan and his hands found their home as they grasped her hips. Maybe he meant for her to stop but when she started to gyrate all he could do was savor the way her hips swayed and jutted forward.

With every movement her breasts pressed into him as she crouched, her lips returning to his this time with an increased passion. She was breathing as heavy as he was now and he could feel the wetness seeping through the cloth, dampening his cock. It was her. It was her arousal. Rationale and sanity left him then and he nearly cried from the lack of self-control as his hips awkwardly followed her rhythm. The friction was exciting him too much, he was afraid he would spill like a greenboy as he felt his cock tighten, but he didn't want her to stop. Her tongue enticed his while they kissed; her little breaths soon emitted tiny moans and he needed to stop, maybe he should push her away, but she felt too good and whatever she was doing - what they were doing - he couldn't resist it. Instead, his hands skimmed up and over to find the ties of her gown, and with one clumsy tug it came apart. He smoothed over her bare breasts to find her erect nipples with his fingers and she whimpered into his mouth; it proved his undoing as he spilled in his smallclothes with a smothered groan; his head dizzied and fell back against the chair.

"I'm - I'm so sorry -"

"I'm not," she whispered, her gyrating continuing. "I'm not -"

Robb's head whipped back up to stare at her. She was smiling wickedly and he wondered how she could after he lasted all of thirty seconds with her cunt sliding over his cock. 

"Here. Like this." She grabbed his hand from her breast and lowered it to between her legs.

"Gods, _Sansa_." He touched the plush curls before his knuckles grazed her folds, slick with her arousal. She felt like velvet, like silk, like everything sweet and good and sensual. With her guidance he twisted his hand palm-up, his finger tips sliding easily into the crevices. He found a bump, a bud of protruding skin, and discovered when he massaged it in the motion she showed him she tensed and whimpered out little " _ahs_ " and " _mmms_ ". Soon his fingers were slippery and she began to move frantically against them and he watched her, fascinated, turned-on even though his cock was in its refractory stage. She was staring at him so intently, her kiss-swollen lips parted in pleasure and he quickened his rubbing. It seemed to be all she needed as she cried out so sweetly, her nails digging into his chest. 

Robb felt the tiny pulses of her cunt and he daringly dipped down to swipe through her drenched folds. He liked the feel of her secretions against his fingertips and instinctively he withdrew his hand to bring his fingers to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste her essence. It was almost like a diluted honey. His first time tasting a woman's cum.

He made his sister cum. And he loved it.

Robb was aware of his own sticky mess but before he could move Sansa leaned in to kiss him again, only to pull away leaving him wanting more. He noticed her lips looked like a deeper shade and her cheeks were rosy. She slid off of him easily while lacing her ties back up, and in one graceful movement she picked up her wrapper off the floor, shrugging it on.

"Sansa -" He didn't even know what he was going to say. He was at a loss for words but not of feelings.

"Shhh. I must go." She offered a kiss on his forehead before she smoothed his tousled hair."Perhaps you can go riding with me tomorrow? Just the two of us?"

"Riding?" The request shocked him. Sansa hated riding.

"Just the two of us," she repeated. Her hand caressed his stubble before tracing over his lips and staying there. "Deep into the Wolfswood. To go exploring."

He understood now. Almost reverently he kissed her lingering fingers.

"Yes, of course. I will clear my schedule for the afternoon."

Her smile was all he needed as she slipped out of his solar. There was no place for regret or guilt over what they had just done, and if anything Robb knew the only restlessness he would experience tonight would be over thoughts of their ride tomorrow. For now, though, he needed to clean himself up and make ready for bed. Still, his hands would be the last thing he would be washing and he smiled as he brought the fingers he pleasured Sansa with to his lips, his tongue darting out to savor any remnants.

Guilt and shame would just have to wait for another day.


	4. Deep In The Wolfswood

The taste of her sweet little mouth and the sound of her approving soft sighs were made all the sweeter with the intoxicating knowledge that they were truly alone yet out in the open, exposed to nature but in secret as the cool wind floated through the tree branches surrounding them. He leaned in, his cloak billowing around them both as she pressed her lithe body against him, using the stout tree behind her for leverage and balance.

Grey Wind and Lady abandoned them miles ago when they rode out past the Godswood and deep into the Wolfswood, no doubt deterred by the promise of an unseen but prospective kill. He was left with Sansa in the thick of the woods where the sunlight peeked through sparse openings in the surrounding trees. The hustle and bustle of the castle and its surroundings were left far behind them and only the sounds of their tethered horses plodding in place at the ground occasionally broke the silence. Well, that and the hammering of Robb's heart, which he swore he could hear through his furred cloak, and their raspy breaths. Still, the area they ventured into was known well enough; with more innocent intentions at a younger age he and Sansa liked to go exploring in the forest, enjoying the tranquility and the make-believe adventures they would devise.

He was sure this adventure would create a different kind of memory; not one of close siblings playing pretend but of clandestine lovers discovering forbidden delights.

Sansa had said very little along the way. He knew she was not fond of riding and he even offered to have her ride on his trusted steed but she declined. Of course it has made sense not to be seen riding on one horse but Robb felt a twinge of disappointment. The air was crisp, even with the afternoon sun beating down on them, but at least it was not snowing. His furs were plenty enough to keep him warm, almost too warm as the heat rose in the back of his neck and down around his groin. Sansa wore a simple cloak and matching gown of light grey trimmed with fur and dark grey leather boots, her hair merely one long braid streaming down her back and she had no adornments. It was the Northern way, simplistic, yet she looked so lovely. Sansa did not need finery to shine. The sight of her of when he had her backed up against the tree sparked something almost animalistic in him when she reached for his furred collar; when she first kissed him he could have sworn he growled his appreciation for her perfect lips tasting his.

Presently, Robb boldly pulled her closer to him for a more fierce kiss, a hand tightening on her shoulder as his other cupped her face. Her kisses were as sweet as the ones given in his solar but now he felt more unrestrained, bolstered by their secret surroundings. Her soft cool lips had warmed instantly under his and he wholeheartedly took what she offered, pushing his thoughts of guilt and honor into the dark recesses of his mind. He could keep on kissing her forever yet her mouth was not enough. His shaking hands parted her cloak, exposing her delicate neck for him to devour. Robb half expected her to protest but she did not. It made him bold, ignited him further, his hands more steady as he fumbled with the laces on her bodice. She wore no constraints or layers underneath, no barriers to the sweet flesh of her breasts as he impatiently pushed down the finely stitched cloth. Daringly he dipped his head down to lick a taut pink nipple, pleased at how her hands clutched his hair and pulled him in close, and proud of how hard the buds were under the warmth of his mouth and hand. He was sure it wasn't due to the chill in the air.

"Oh gods," she rasped, seemingly starting to buckle. "Robb -"

He wanted to strip her naked, to see her completely nude before him, but the cold air swept that thought away on the breeze that tickled through his locks. He wasn't sure what he should do next, but Sansa had no qualms about guiding him as her hands pulled away from his head to reach down and gather her skirts. Robb immediately dropped to his knees to help her push aside her cloak and push up her skirt, exposing her long legs and a red triangle of silken curls. His face was so close to her that he could smell her arousal but he was unsure of how to proceed. It was the first time he could truly see her cunt, and his cock signaled appreciation by straining all the harder against his breeches. He did not want to tear his eyes away from the sight but he did so to sit back on his haunches and look up at her while his hands skimmed up the smooth flesh of her thighs to gently spread her legs wider before his fingertips rested just under her apex. She looked down at him, her mouth slightly open and wet from kissing, her bared breasts glistening from the trails of his tongue. The heat of her eyes told him what he needed to know; even here in this instance, they could communicate without a word.

His heart seemed to jump into his throat but his fingers did not tremble as his moved to caress through her hair and into her folds, already damp with arousal. They felt like flower petals fresh from a morning dew; velvety and soft and delicate. He quickly found the little nub that he knew was her center of pleasure and massaged it, enjoying the sounds of her breath quickening before she letting out a small but telltale frustrated sigh. 

Robb may not be experienced in the art of sexual pleasures but he was not ignorant; and although it was something Theon talked about in disgusted tones as if it was something vile to be despised, Robb felt otherwise as he leaned in, using both hands to lovingly push back the hair there to lick into those blush-colored petals, tilting his head at a more comfortable angle to make sure he could flatten his tongue deep into her crevices. Maybe he didn't really know for certain exactly what he should do, but he had a good idea as he worked her, trying to maintain some sort of rhythm against her, his mouth soon closing in around her clit to suck. He was rewarded with a little whimper and a bucking of her hips which pressed him even closer in, his nose nudging her pubic hair. His mouth was full of her taste, his nose of her scent; daringly he inserted a finger slowly up inside of her. Despite the cold her cunt was warm; cautiously he added a second finger, not sure if he was hurting her. 

Sansa's moans increased and he felt her thighs tighten so he started to move his fingers, wondering if she ever did this to herself in the middle of the night and if she used two just like him, or three, since her fingers were so slender -

"C - Curl your fingers, Robb. Please. Curl them as if - as if you are beckoning someone to come to you - ah -" 

He did as he was told, even though he was afraid of hurting her when doing so. She seemed far from hurt as she hiked the skirts up even further, and he lifted his head up for a moment while still working his fingers. She was craning her neck forward to peer down at him, wisps of her auburn hair blowing in the breeze, her breasts rising and falling in rapid time. Her blue eyes shone oddly dark and she bit her lip.

She was watching him, at least watching what she could as she flattened the material across her waist, and he was taken aback at how much he liked it. Yet it was so unlike Sansa, who had always been so shy and decorous in the presence of anything male, yet she showed no qualms over watching her own brother lick her cunt and finger her.

"Please keep going, please Robb. With your mouth, with your fingers, please don't stop until - oh gods!" The last of her words came out in gasps as he returned to her warmth, lips kissing lips, tongue licking up through her center. His focus on her helped to slake his own need but he still fought for control as he moved his mouth and tongue and fingers in tandem. Theon did not know what he was talking about as usual; she tasted stronger than when her secretions were on his finger, but now it almost tasted like those lemon cakes she loved. 

Sansa let go of holding her skirt in favor of grabbing at his curls. Robb was sure she did not mean to hurt him but he flinched all the same, moving his free hand to reach up and grasp her hand into his, entwining fingers. She clutched, pulling, her breath picking up, and he squeezed right back. If his mouth hadn't been busy he would have told her he loved her but he was pleased all the same when she came with a cry, yanking his hand upwards while arching into his mouth. He felt the contracting around his fingers and in his mouth as he sucked in her clit, followed by a surge of wetness flowing onto his fingers.

He waited until her pulses stopped before slowly pulling away from her, looking at the sticky dew on his fingers before placing them into his mouth. It was a shame she dropped her skirt to cover herself, hiding that beautiful cunt that he had been lucky enough to see and taste and feel. Jealously for a moment he wondered who in Highgarden had been there before him, and he knew Joffrey Baratheon would not appreciate such beauty.

He looked up at her as if seeking reassurance for a task well done and would have risen, but she slid down the bark of the tree before leaning into him, pushing him down into the dead grass of the cold ground. His cloak padded him against the chill and her warm body hovered over him, her own cloak flowing around them, her long hair streaming around her face. She kissed him soundly, sighing into his mouth. He was surprised she didn't protest at the taste of her in his mouth.

Robb reached up to caress her face but she reared up, smiling. 

"My brother, you have a naturally talented mouth. For kissing more than one set of lips." She giggled, her girl's laugh, and he was painfully aware of their indiscretion for a moment as he was also shifting to ease the pressure of her bottom pressing into his groin. "I feel a desire to thank you for being such a fast learner."

"Thank me?" He smiled. "I did that because I wanted to, Sansa, not to be thanked for it."

"Yes, I know, which means you should be thanked for not wanting to be thanked. Besides, a lady always remembers her courtesies." She bit her lip then, and before he could say anything else she shimmied down to where she crouched over his waist, moving to his left side.

A sinking feeling developed in his stomach but at the same time he felt his cock straining as her fingers deftly worked at the laces of his breeches while pulling his shirt up at the same time. A flash of Ros and the embarrassment of spilling instantly in her calloused hand while thinking of Sansa passed through his mind.

"Sansa, you dont have to -"

"I know I don't have to, Robb. Maybe I just want to. How could I not? You were so good to me. Not many men would be."

"But -" His voice weakened when she pushed down his breeches enough to expose his cock to the cool air. He was worried about the cold affecting his erection but there was no need when her warm hands grasped up, slowly moving up and down. He leaned up to look at her. Her small smile seemed so innocent but how she was moving her hands was not. And she was no longer looking at him but drinking in his cock with her darkened eyes.

"Gods, Robb, you are no longer a greenboy." Her voice was low, sensuous, and before Robb could find his wits to reply, she shocked him, emitting an unmanly gasp from his lips when she lowered her mouth onto his cock. 

This sensation was new; warm wet, tight. He wondered unashamedly if this is what it would feel like to sink into her. He could no longer watch, even though he longed to; he couldn't imagine any woman willingly doing this to any man, but it did feel so good, and he wondered if this is what it felt like for her when he brought her to a climax with his mouth. He fell back into the ground, his head landing with a soft thud, his eyes closing. Behind the dark all he could see was Sansa, her red hair spilling around her as she sucked, moving her mouth up, down, her hands helping at the base then cupping his sacs underneath. He felt her tongue tracing patterns as she moved and he nearly spilled at that; even so, he felt the tightening far too soon.

"Sansa," he whispered, desperately attempting to warn her, trying so hard to think of something other than what his sister was doing to him. Only his body wasn't willingly cooperating with what his mind feebly protested. His arms splayed out, his fingers digging into the cold ground. Even that did nothing to assuage his lust.

In a silent response, Sansa increased her efforts, and Robb was absolved of any unwanted result. The pleasure was too much and he came in her mouth, a feeling so intense and erotic he had no time to feel guilt. Instead he embraced it, moaning or shouting her name, it wasn't clear to him but her name crossed his lips nevertheless; he could shout it at the top of his lungs if he chose. There was no one here, no one but them, and that alone held a deeply embedded sense of thrill. His senses reeled and he was near to passing out, but he only laid breathless, listening to Sansa pucker off of his cock, taking all of his fluid with her. She had swallowed, and he was in complete awe of her. Rendered speechless.

He allowed his eyes to open when he felt her primly tucking his cock back into his breeches and lacing him back up. It was as if nothing ever happened as she returned to straddle him, adjusting her cloak and beaming down.

"What shall we do now? Play maidens and knights now, like we used to?" Her hand skimmed over down his cheek. "Throw rocks and sticks in the streams?"

"Sansa." He breathed it out as he finally found movement, his hand reaching up to clasp hers, removing it from his face before bringing it to his lips.

Her face changed. It softened around the contours as her eyes seemed to fade back to the dark blue of his own. Sansa the seductress disappeared, leaving only his sweet and gentle sister. His other half. They have always shared a bond and now, it was something even more tangible and fulfilling. He knew it was wrong. To be caught would mean possible death in the North, or perhaps at the very least he would be sent to the Wall and Sansa banished in disgrace. But he loved her. 

Robb pulled her down to him for a kiss, savoring the smile between the parting of lips.


	5. Drawing Of The Drapes

"You know I cannot stay in your room through the night," Robb murmured before planting a chaste but lingering kiss on her hip through the fabric separating them. He rubbed his cheek where the faint moisture from his mouth lingered and he felt her shiver. "I think it is rather wicked of you to do this to me."

"Aye, it is." A soft giggle emitted from her. " But do you like it so?" 

"I do." 

Between the tapers alternating light from their flickering flames and the constant swaying of her delicate filmy bed curtain, it was hard to decipher the expression on Sansa's face. All he could truly make out was the fluttering of her closed eyes and the deep pink of her lips. Her auburn tresses hung down around her curves of her breasts as she swayed standing on her featherbed, the gauze hangings wrapped around her like a gossamer shroud. Moments before he had found himself stunned and stuttering as she shed her modest cotton shift behind the gauzy drapes from Highgarden, only to twist and turn against them in such a deliberate act of sensuality that Robb could not help but to be mesmerized at such an erotic sight. She was a lovely temptress undulating to a lover's tune. Completely bare to him yet not quite so; protected behind a transparent wall yet more exposed to him than she had ever allowed before. It rendered him almost speechless until he drew the courage to touch her covered skin with his bold fingers and salivating mouth. He loved how she arched for his touch, how she loved him. And how he loved her. 

Knowing they could never fully consummate the physical aspect of their intimacy was not truly bothering him; he accepted what she allowed and never pressed for the ultimate favor, even as he dreamed at night of naught else but that very act of completion. Perhaps in this way they could still maintain a semblance of honor in front of the Gods ... if they now had any left. It was a hollow justification but a reassurance all the same, just as it seemed less of a transgression to never lie together completely naked. Always there was a layer of clothing. No matter how thin, like her lovely gowns from Highgarden; or thick, like the wool dresses of Winterfell, there was always something to shove up, push aside, or unlace, yet his mouth and hands always found their way in, under, around.

This is the closest he has come to seeing her in her full nude glory and he takes in with his eyes as much as he can while she continued to tease him behind her gauze-like bed curtain. He wants to tear the fabric away while she stands and he leans into her; instead, his hands and mouth eagerly seeks out her flesh even as his lips taste the netting. He feels her heat and pleasure through the barrier, as if it has taken a life of its own. She reaches out to steady her hands on his shoulders as his part her legs, his fingers pushing into the fabric and finding her crevices. It doesn't take long for her to draw deep breaths of pleasure. The fabric indents and expands rapidly where her mouth has parted and Robb's hand moves with the skill and precision he has been acquiring. 

"Did anyone in Highgarden touch you this way?" He asks it softly, not wanting to offend her with his pointless jealousy. He cannot help but wonder which Tyrell has taught her what she knows, and how much knowledge she truly holds. He hopes it is the lovely Margaery who introduced her to the arts of sensuality and refuses to believe Loras or Willas had much to do with it. 

"Not the way you do." She whispers it breathlessly. "Therein lies all that truly matters, brother."

He knows it is more than flattery. Sansa was never one to be insincere with him and he smiles a little, but it is a wistful smile as his dormant hand slides up her thigh to her hip, clutching the curtain as he holds fast. His other hand can feel the wetness sticking to the fabric. 

"We could make love." A fire creeps up his spine and his heart beats a little quicker even as he knows her answer. He tries to ignore his cock becoming even more hard at the thought of him buried deep inside of her. It was something forbidden to them but he cannot help his desire for it.

"We cannot." It is a small whine from her, tinged with longing and restraint. "You cannot take my maidenhead and we cannot risk a babe. There are other ways to pleasure, to love." Her hips tilt into his touch.

"Aye, fingers and mouths, I know these well." To prove his intellect on the matter he guides two fingers partially inside of her, inwardly cursing the netting barrier. He can still feel her warmth and wetness but it is dulled. A whimper results from Sansa as she reaches down to push his fingers in deeper.

Robb leans in, allowing her to use him as an anchor as he brings her to a climax. It is soft and gentle and he thinks her little moan is sweeter than all the music in the the Seven Kingdoms. He admits it is not as satisfying for him as it is when he can feel her skin and pulsating without impediments but it doesn't matter. Robb feels in that moment he would give up land, title, and wealth if only he could live with Sansa as his Lady and not just as his sister. He cannot imagine taking anyone else to wife and he refused to think of Sansa being married off to a Lord... or Prince.

How long could they continue on like this? How could he just watch or stand helpless and let her go to another man? No man could ever be worthy of her. If they had been born Targs and not Starks he would marry her with their parents' approval. It would be expected of them. Yet they could not pretend; they were who they were and and it could never be ignored.

"Come here," she whispers coyly, parting the curtains enough to expose her beautiful face. She is flushed and happy as she pulls him half-on to her bed to kiss him. He is more than willing to comply, and soon her lips drive all thoughts from his head save one: Sansa.

 

*******************

 

Robb shifted irritably before tossing his quill down onto the table and stroking his short beard. Sansa liked him growing a beard and he suspected it was yet another way to separate their time as brother and sister from what they were to each other now. He was drowsy, distracted, easily annoyed at all of the requests and demands that had been piling up steadily over the past few weeks. He supposed it was his own fault, being far too preoccupied with Sansa to attend his basic duties in his father's absence. Love and pleasures had their time and place, just as duty did, and unfortunately he has been neglecting one for the other far too much lately. 

The guilt weighed down on him when he was away from her but when he was with her it was a whole different world, a completely opposite feeling. They stole moments when and where they could and he thoroughly enjoyed every second of touching her, kissing her, pleasing her; just the passing thought of her lips and hands on his cock stirred him at the most inopportune moments -

"Robb."

Startled out of his forbidden thoughts, Robb flushed in abject guilt and looked up to see Theon entering the council room.

"You could have knocked," he fussed, taking up his quill again and shuffling parchments.

"Well, I did. Twice. I thought maybe you had died or something." He approached with his cocky swagger but a rare look of seriousness crossed his clean-shaven face as he handed over a scroll. "This was opened and lying on the table in the Great Hall. It wasn't delivered to me. It has your father's seal broken."

"But from your face I believe you've already read it." Robb snatched the scroll and unrolled it. It was indeed his father's writing. As he started to scan it, Theon shrugged.

"Far be it for me to refrain from an already opened document. It's really not that bad. Your family is coming home -"

"Not that bad? Did you actually fucking read this?" It was like an arrow of ice shot through his heart."This cannot be happening!"

"Well, everyone knew it would happen eventually. I mean, now that Sansa's flowered and -"'

"One more word about Sansa's flowering and I will run you through!" Robb stood up, throwing the offending thing down to the floor. He was going to be sick.

"Well before you do that - and good luck to you, 'cause I am the better fighter - I think you should know I caught Sansa bolting out of the Great Hall looking like she ate a stale lemon cake."

It took mere seconds to swoop down and grab the parchment, snatch up his cloak, storm out of the study and down the hall, and whistle to Grey Wind. His heart felt heavy, panicked as he made his way to Sansa's solar only to find it empty, as was his. He asked servants along the way, and then Old Nan, if they had seen her but no one had. There was only one place he could think of where she would seek refuge when she was upset. He hurried outside past the courtyard and through the gates of the godswood.

She was sitting underneath the Weirwood Tree, legs tucked up at the knee while her chin rested there, her arms folded around her legs. She didn't have a cloak and her long locks streamed down her sides. She looked so pale, drained and small; so childlike and scared that Robb's anger at the letter dissipated into tenderness as she raised her eyes to meet his. He joined her wordlessly, sitting down next to her on the ground warmed by the hot springs beneath. It was always so beautiful here; so still and calming. Robb sat in the godswood countless of times and felt at peace, felt as one with the gods themselves but now helplessness and conflict sat heavy on his heart. Perhaps this was the Gods judging them and passing their sentence for their crimes. A decree of a lifetime of misery.

"How long do you think we have?" Her voice was thin and wavering and she did not look at him.

"A moon's turn, maybe a little longer."

The silence returned and Robb did not know what to say as her head pressed up against his shoulder. He slipped his hand over hers but there was nothing he could do for consolation.

The King and his entourage and the Starks were on their way to Winterfell. Robb was being tasked with preparing for their arrival as well as contacting the Lords of all the Houses in the North. While the castle would be clamoring with the hustle and bustle and pride of this prestigious honor, Robb would be dreading the purpose of the visit. From the looks of her, Sansa did not hold the same feeling now that she so passionately had a little over two years ago when she was so determined to have herself a golden prince for life.

The betrothal of Lady Sansa Stark to Prince Joffrey Baratheon would be moving forward as planned, with celebrations chosen to take place in Winterfell before the formal marriage ceremony in King's Landing at a future date. 

Of course they had been living in some foolish dream. They both knew whatever this was, what they were doing, it was something that couldn't last. A brother and his sister - Highborns, no less - could not keep this secret from the world forever. Or could they? No. He could not risk Sansa being found out, not when she will be married to the heir of the Seven Kingdoms. She will be Queen someday. He will be Lord of Winterfell. Their love for each other, their affection, it could never pass beyond the bond of siblings and he had been foolhardy to entertain impossible dreams when she was in his arms during their clandestine meetings, or at night while lying lonely and longing in his bed. 

His stomach churned at the thought of her in that little prick's bed. He had no doubt Joffrey would be a selfish lover at best. Sansa deserved to be loved, coddled, cherished, and she would not be so in King's Landing. Or perhaps the love of the people would be enough for her, and the love from the children she would have, but Robb did not think so; not after seeing, feeling, tasting how she loved their carnal pleasures -

Sansa let go of his hand abruptly and stood, looking down at him with the color rising back into her cheeks, blooming her to life.

"Meet me back here tonight while the castle sleeps," she whispered, a strange glint in her eye."I will send Lady to you when it is safe."

She turned and fled before Robb could stumble to his feet and he slumped up against the ancient bark of the tree, staring at her as she left. Her shoulders were squared and her chin held high as her determined steps carried her swiftly out of the godswood through the gates. She looked every inch a queen-in-making, and the illusion only made Robb sad.

Instead of following her, he dropped to his knees and bowed his head, praying to any of the gods that would pay him any heed. For what exactly, though, he did not know.


	6. In Defiance Of The Gods

Robb lay taut and wide awake on his bed, fully dressed complete with cloak, straining his ears for the slightest sound of scratching or whining at his solar door. He even forced his breath to draw in slow and shallow, even as his heartbeat hammered wildly in his chest from excitement and fear. Grey Wind lay dozing by the hearth, unperturbed by his master's restlessness, letting out an occasional sleep-induced snort.

He was no fool. Well, he was a little when it came to his sister but he knew why she was summoning him to the Godswood tonight. He played the scenario in his head; he would boldly walk into the sacred area and sweep her up in his arms, finally taking control of this dance she had been leading him on since she returned home, prove to her he was far removed from the greenboy he used to be. Then he would tumble to the ground with her and there, in front of the Weirwood tree, he would fall upon her, drawing her in to a fit of passionate lovemaking. He would gladly dishonor all of their family and all of their gods by boldly taking her maidenhead, and their crime against all that is lawful would be complete. Joffrey Baratheon would not have her innocence. Never. Robb would claim it like the wolf he was, and this time Sansa would give in to his ardor and peak so sweetly in his arms. And after - what of after? Was there nothing beyond that? What could possibly happen after they claim each other completely in body?

She would still marry that gold-haired twit and he would be married off in a suitable match.

Nervously he ran trembling fingers through his hair. 

How many times had he tossed in bed, racked with guilt and dreaming of making love to Sansa? Once the fantasy was realized, where did they go from here? His fantasy never reached beyond spilling into her as she clung to him -

By the time he heard the much-craved sound of Lady's furious scratches at his door, Robb's heart, mind and body were all in complete turmoil. He was clumsy in his attempt to creep out of his room and slink down the hall like a thief in the night, like a criminal escaping his prison, looking furtively around as he stole out of a side door and into the night. Lady broke away and Grey Wind joined her as they raced across the Godswood and beyond, disappearing into the odd fog that seemed to cling to the trees that were shrouded in darkness. A thin mist hovered over the ground, created by the steaming hot springs. She could not have picked a more shielded night. In the foreground of the Weirwood tree, Sansa stood by one of the hot springs, encased in her thick wool Stark-grey colored cloak, her face enshrined but her unmistakable auburn locks spilling out from within. Perhaps a stranger to their lands and sacred ground would call the scenery eerie but Robb only had eyes for the vision in front of him and he thought it ethereal. His intended plan of taking the lead fell by the wayside when her pale hands flew to the ties of her cloak, unlacing deftly as she stood proud, letting the garment fall to her feet.

The warm mists from the water seemed to rise up to caress her milk-white limbs. She was truly a sight to behold, all paleness of skin and hair of flowing fire trapped in a curtain of steamed filmy drapery. He had never been allowed to see her completely bare from head to toe and his eyes greedily took in their fill of her. He nearly wept at the way she advanced toward him, her arms reaching out and her lips parted. She moved with grace, assured, proud of her beauty and confident that the sight of her had him trembling and ready to fall at her feet. Already the heat from the springs brought forth tiny beads of sweat to his forehead, or perhaps it was the fire starting to boil in his blood.

Robb could not help but gasp, mouth completely dry, when she reached him, her hands sweeping up to bring him in for a kiss; slow, soft, tender. All premeditated swagger swept away with the touch of her mouth and the deft untying of his cloak. He wanted to increase his kisses but instead he once again - as he always has - relinquished control to her. He could only stand frozen with love, lust, desire, and a little trepidation as she slowly - so, so slowly - rid him of his cloak and his shirt before dropping down to unlace his boots, pulling them off in a strangely sensual way until he stood barefoot on the wet, warm ground, clad only in his breeches, which she made short work of as well. He stood as naked as she, his cock already jutting up hard and proud and aching. He also had never stood before her completely bare and when she gracefully stood up to her full height, her hands glided up his legs to his waist, then curved inward to run up the thin trail from his manhood to smooth up through his chest hair. Robb couldn't help the small moan as a wave of want flooded over him. She moved to kiss him again but his hand cupped her cheek, holding her back.

"Sansa," he gasped, his heart spiraling out of control."You're beautiful. Pure. I cannot -" _He could. Oh, he could, but the consequence_ -

"Shh." A slim finger pressed against his lips and he kissed it, his tongue rolling around the tip.

She guided him and he followed as she stepped into the spring, walking to the deepest part and lowering herself, disappearing from the waist down. He clung to her hand and joined her, the water warm and inviting as the steam enveloped them, hiding them from the outside world. He could barely even make out the trees or the moon, not that it mattered; all he could see was Sansa, her body now half-hidden with the warm water of the springs. She was the center of his world as she easily drifted into his embrace, the feel of her breasts against his chest just as overpowering as how easily her legs wrapped around him, her abdomen pressing against his cock into his belly, wet arms circling his neck. He was aware of how open she was to him, vulnerable, exposed so all he would need to do is reach into the water and -

He kissed her with passion, desperate for the distraction of her lips, made all the more sensuous from their surroundings, his hands clutching at strands of her long hair, savoring the way the wet ends feel against his fingertips, wet and clinging. Sansa broke away only to kiss deep into his neck and he whimpered then, breathing hard before kissing her fiercely on the top of her head, struggling for control as her hand sinks down into the water to grasp him, her hand near to unbearable around his cock.

"Sansa -" 

He grunts her name into the crown of her head as his hand also dips into the warmth to find her center, her own little whimpers and short breaths filling his ears as she bites into the crook of his neck. It is a strange feeling to touch her beneath water but he rubs her all the same, slipping two fingers tentatively inside when she arches up a little in invitation, her hand starting to slide up and down his length. It is too much and for a moment he loses control, taking his free hand to wrap around her hair and pull her back enough to take a hardened pink nipple into his mouth. A tiny cry brings him down, tempers him, and he once again returns to being gentle lover, licking and teasing her breasts while his fingers work inside of her at a painfully slow pace. His lips ghost over her collarbone, shoulders, neck, and back down, savoring every section of skin made damp from his mouth and the mist.

"Robb, please -" It is a sigh and he wonders if it is plea for more or less so he finds her mouth with his again, their kisses more frantic now. Sansa is grinding on him, gasping out little cries, her stroking of him becoming inconsistent, lessening. He doesn't mind it, really, and then he doesn't care at all when he feels her slackening against him into his arms.

For the first time she has weakened and she is trembling as she abandons his cock to fling her slim arms around his neck, clasping her hands behind. Robb takes her weakness and finds his strength, fingers leaving her soft warmth to grip her waist, moving her to the edge of the springs, lying her down half on the ground, her legs - and his - still touching the shallow waters. The snow was nowhere to be found here, the heat from the hot springs warmed the moss and it was an almost welcoming bed. Robb is not quite sure what to do as he hovers over Sansa, who was breathing rapidly, her half-wet hair fanning out against the oddly green ground. Her eyes are dark but they sparkle up at him, wide and loving and she smiles. 

Robb returns the smile with his own and a small laugh emits from him, one of elation and pure happiness. He is sure he would never, as long as he lived, see such a beautiful sight as Sansa lying naked, glistening, and smiling up at him as if he were her lover, her knight, her golden prince she had wanted and dreamed of since she was a small child. It tore at his heart and suddenly pain filled his chest and the only way he knew how to lessen it was to bow his head from her sight and move down to spread her legs and bury his face there, tasting an intermingling of the hot springs and her warm, excited center. Her hands in his hair and her little sweet cries provided the balm he needed, the pain washing away with her peak, her voice musical and high in the dead of the night as his hands moved to snake underneath her smooth arse to lift her better to his mouth so he could take in her orgasmic flow. He knew no other woman would taste like lemons and cream against his tongue. _Only his Sansa_.

His hands traced to the cleft between her cheeks to smooth upwards and he paused, confused. His fingers circled something hard, round and flat and he withdrew his mouth to look up at her. She propped herself up on her elbows to stare at him as he sat back on heels. 

"There _is_ a way to have me, Robb," she said breathlessly, coming down from her climax. "A way in which I preserve my maidenhead. I can still feel you inside of me, you can still - still spill inside of me." Her voice wavered and she tore her gaze away, rolling over onto her belly while tugging her long hair out of the way. 

Robb took in her long neck and smooth back down to her narrow waist, before focusing on the object embedded in her shapely arse. His mind reeled with her words and he swallowed hard.

"I used the fine oil Loras gave me and stopped it with this plug. If you remove it, you will find me wet like between a woman's legs."

Hands shaking, he reached down and gently, slowly removed the plug and Sansa shuddered as he tossed it to the ground. The oil seeped out and he caught it with his fingertips before tracing circles around her hole, still small but opened and saturated. Experimentally he slid his index finger in halfway, hearing her exhale a sigh. She was tight and he pulled out, turning her onto her back. 

"Robb?" She reached up and he gladly crouched down to her.

"Is that what you _truly_ want?" His voice broke. He could feel her hesitation. "Sansa, what do you truly desire?"

Her hand brought his face close to hers and he could feel her breath. Tears started to glisten and her eyes conveyed more emotion than Robb had ever seen.

"You," she whispered. "I want _you_. I don't want Joffrey. Or Theon. Or Loras or Willas or any other man. I love you and trust you, Robb. I cannot bear the thought of surrendering my maidenhead to someone who will never take it in love. There is honor in you and I both love and resent you for it. I know you would never, could never. I learned in Highgarden ways to deceive a husband on the wedding night so that they think nothing is amiss. No one ever need know I do not go to the marriage bed a maid, yet honor demands that we -"

"Honor?" His heart swelled. "Isn't love honor? I - I want to love you, Sansa, whatever comes of it. But I - cannot do what you are asking me to do -" 

"Then don't," she cried, bringing his lips to hers. "Then let us _truly_ love. Please, Robb -"

She was begging, entreating him, pulling him flush against her and pushing her hips up into him as much as she was able, reaching down between them to guide him to her entrance. Her pleas, her body, her tears broke all of his resolve away and he let her do as she willed - he would always let her do as she wanted, and he wanted it as well - and he felt the tip of his cock pressing at her entrance, still slick with his saliva and her secretions.

All of his internal struggle dissipated in mere moments as he pushed in as slow as he could manage and the feeling was overwhelming as he broke her thin barrier. Tight, warm, soft and wet, it overpowered him but he halted when she gasped sharply. He meant to ask her if she was all right and if he should stop, but she flung her legs and arms around him, arching. She had him secured in her embrace and sought his lips, her hands clawing into his back so he moved carefully as to not hurt her more, starting a gentle but awkward rhythm. He was inside of her, inside his sister, he was making love to his sister and the Gods could rain down on all the punishment they deemed fit on him. She was his world, his God in this moment and truly if a crime then perhaps he needed to discover a new religion -

"Sansa, Sansa, Sansa -" he couldn't stop chanting her name during the small moments her mouth did not press against his. Her response was to murmur and cry out his name over, and over, and over again and it was sweeter than any other sound he has ever heard. 

Even now, she maintained some semblance of control as she grappled for his hand, moving it down between them, and he obligingly began stroking down through her folds, finding her swollen nub. He was on the brink himself, knowing it was too soon and perhaps she could forgive him, he could make it better for the both of them the next time, or the time after that, or the time after -

"I love you, Sansa." He gasped it against her mouth as she peaked, crying out against his mouth, and he felt it; she contracted around him, her cunt fluttering and gripping unmanned him and he quickly pulled out, groaning and ejaculating on her inner thigh. He was dizzied, euphoric through his orgasm, full of passion and love and not one drop of regret ebbed from his mind.

"I love you, too, Robb." Sansa's waiting arms accepted his collapsing, warm body and he clung to her. They had committed the highest familial sin in the North, but the knowledge dimmed in their sensual sealing of fates.

Robb smoothed his hands over her body, peppering little kisses over her neck and cheeks, lips and nose. Even in the dark he could tell she was flushed and she smiled, even giggled a little when he kissed her nose so low he almost got her nostril. Her heart was beating as fast as his but it was slowing as they both came down from their highs. Sansa shifted under him, wincing a little, and he reluctantly moved away.

"I think I bled a little," she whispered, almost apologetically.

Robb immediately chastised himself for not being more careful and pulled her body down into the water with him until she was submerged to her waist, dipping his hand under the water to gently rub between her legs and over her thighs where he had spilled, before doing the same to himself. He has felt wet and sticky before the water, but he did not want to see what he had done to his sister.

"Are you all right?" He had to ask, not just out of his concern for her but also for his own reassurance. "Did I -"

"I am more than all right, don't fret." She moved to hug him, burying her face into his neck and kissing him there and he wrapped his arms tight around her. It was comforting, loving. "We must return. We cannot stay here the remainder of the night."

Robb nodded, feeling empty when she broke way to walk back to solid ground, casually picking up the plug before walking further to retrieve her cloak. She covered her glorious body before helping him gather his own clothing and he clumsily tugged everything back on, offering her his own cloak. She declined, stating she was going back to her solar by using the Guest House entrance which was right next to the Godswood. Robb would have liked to return with her that way but realized it would be safer to go another way in case of of them was detected. He wanted to hold her hand, pull her close. Now everything has changed between them and in clung in the air just as the gloomy mists hung around the Godswood. 

She beamed at him with an almost girlish grin before slipping away, leaving Robb to wonder what could they possibly do now, with Joffrey and their family on their way to Winterfell. His first thought was that they could nothing but submit to the will of their father and mother and King. His body and heart screamed at him that his mind was useless and there had to be another way for them.

 

********************

 

Sansa spoke true when she guessed the retinue would arrive in a moon's turn; Robb tensely watched from the Battlements as the streams of caravans made their way to Winterfell's welcoming gate. He knew he should feel some semblance of happiness at least for the homecoming of his parents and siblings but he harbored only dread and resentment. As he made his way down to greet them, all he could think of was Sansa lying in his arms, and how it had to end so she could leave to formally become his Princess and, eventually, his Queen, by marrying another man and lying in his bed at night.

Facing the King and his little prick of a son with a smile and bow was the best performance of his life while Sansa stood next to him. She was beautiful in dark gold with black trim, a nod to Baraethon colors, even though Robb thought she looked the most beautiful in Stark grey, or perhaps even nothing at all. She executed her role with the loveliest of smiles and perfect grace, even blushing a pretty pink as Joffrey kissed her hand. Robb clenched his jaw and glared at that but it went unnoticed by everyone except Sansa. Her perfectly painted-on mask of pleasure fell and her lip trembled, but then her training as a lady took over and the sadness slipped once again behind the facade.

The feast of the evening meant to celebrate the promise of Sansa's marriage to Joffrey was unbearable. It was even worse knowing that in the morning there would be a formal betrothal in the Godswood, not far from the hot springs where Robb had taken her maidenhead and she his greenboy status. Sansa danced several rows with the little bastard, while Robb's stomach twisted in knots. He was afforded one dance with his lovely sister, receiving more applause than when she danced with the the little shit. To some satisfaction, Arya had confided in him earlier that she did not like Joffrey one bit and the thought of Sansa in the same bed as him made her sick. Arya was now old enough to marry, being only two years younger than Sansa, but she declared she would rather marry old Robert himself rather than be Joffrey's princess. He nearly choked on his meat pie when Arya suggested he take Sansa away and go live on the sea so she didn't have to be saddled to such a prick, while she tugged at her pretty gown and complained no girl in the Red Keep was allowed to wear sensible breeches.

But as the celebrations dragged on, with his heart nearly bleeding dry, Robb wondered if perhaps Arya did not have such a ridiculous idea.

By the time the King and his entourage was shown to their guest solars for a good night's rest, Robb had two burlap sacks - one filled with money, and one filled with food and wine - that he sneaked his way out to the stables where he prepared his horse. 

Feeling like a thief in his own home, he waited for the silence to fall before he slipped to Sansa's solar, letting Grey Wind claw at the door. Sansa opened it just wide enough for him to slip in. She had not been sleeping and was still dressed in her gold gown, telling him he needed to return to his solar before they were caught, and she asked him why he was fully dressed with his cloak, sword, and gloves. His reply was to kiss her fiercely, tell her he loved her and he would rather die than allow her to be married to a tiny tyrant, and fling her over his shoulder like one of his burlap sacks to carry her out of her solar, out of the castle, and to the stables, with Grey Wind and Lady in tow. If the guards noticed them they did not seem to think anything was strange about the young Lord of Winterfell carrying around his sister in the middle of the night.

Sansa never protested. 

It was only when she said her goodbyes to Lady and Grey Wind that she shed a few tears; the direwolves could not come with them. They were far too big to remain hidden, but Robb knew, someday, they would be able to reunite.

Their family would be a different matter.

Still, Robb could not find it in his heart to regret as he spurred his horse into the cool air of the night when Sansa gripped around his waist so tight, her warm body pressed up against his, her hair floating around him, her scent of lavender ticking his nose. The King or the Gods themselves could do their worst. Right or wrong, he loved Sansa. And when he slowed his horse and she whispered that she heard Essos was beautiful this time of year, much like Highgarden, he smiled into the dark and urged his horse to a gallop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> And @sansafeels... here you are, your finally completed Birthday fic! To be fair it was supposed to be a one-shot but it... expanded, of course! Thank you for everything, and I mean everything! Without you there would be no Robbsa past Don't Stop Swaying, and look at us now. :)


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